A means to an end
by yarrow leaves and jaffa cakes
Summary: The day Jane gets his job at the CBI. His impressions on his new colleagues. First piece so probably a bit y'know...


It was Sunday afternoon at round about 1 o'clock in mid July. Teresa Lisbon strode towards the music store in a hurry before her lunch break ended and she had to be back at the office for those damn interviews. Why did her team even need a consultant? They closed their cases just fine. Admittedly the last one did result in the perpetrator dying of lung cancer before they got to him but they weren't that far behind. Anyway this job was taking up any free time she had to buy her brother a birthday present. This was the first opportunity she'd had and his birthday was on Tuesday.

The store was almost empty when she entered except for a blond guy in a suit hanging around the classical area. Who wears a suit to a music store? The kind of person that likes classical music apparently. Shoving the absurd thought out of her mind she headed in his general direction to find the CD she was looking for, some band she'd never heard of before. What was it again? She opened her purse in search of the scrap of paper with the answer. Coldplay, that was it. She flipped through the various artists until she found what she was looking for, and upon discovering there were five different CDs, she let out an exasperated growl, unintentionally gaining the attention of the strange blond man in the suit. She was however, unaware he'd been watching her the whole time but he wasn't about to let her know. Patrick Jane had been playing this game far too long to make a mistake as stupid as that. He wasn't going to act on it either, he'd learnt from experience it wasn't a good idea to blurt out what you saw to any random person especially if you're going to twist that facts. Teresa saw the strange man hesitate for a moment and then walk up to stand beside her. "You want that one," he said pointing to the CD labelled Parachutes. "The first albums of any band are always the best."

"Uhm..er thanks. It's for my..."

"Your brother. Don't worry, I'm sure he'll love it," interrupted Patrick, mentally kicking himself for jumping in and saying exactly what his eyes were telling him.

"Yeah, wait. How did you know that?" she demanded.

"Just a lucky guess," answered Patrick quickly, desperately hoping she would believe him yet knowing she didn't.

"Seriously, how d'you know? Do I know you?"

Patrick seriously considered running. Recent events had made him wary of his acute observation skills and he didn't think using them just to impress people or as he had previously used them, to con people, would make him feel any better about what had happened. But in front of him was a small but incredibly fierce woman that looked like she could probably beat the answer out of him so he ignored his gut instinct and spoke. "Umm... well, the CD wasn't going to be for you because you had to look at a note to see which one to get and it's not for a friend because judging from your formal attire on a Sunday afternoon you work way too much to have much a social life. That leaves family, in your purse you have an old picture of three young boys, presumably brothers with no parents present. You don't dress over effeminately and no father in the picture ergo, it must be a brother. Now I should probably go I have an interview to get to."

He began to move for the door in a hurried attempt to escape the stupid situation he'd gotten himself into.

"Wait," came the stern voice he was dreading to hear. "You got all that from just watching me?" "Umm... yeah."

Patrick figured the woman before him was probably slightly freaked out now that he had pretty much invaded her privacy, so he shot her one of his charming smiles that told her there was nothing to worry about and that he was not, as she probably thought, a crazy stalker/psychopath. Teresa took a closer look at the man that stood awkwardly before her. He was wearing a suit, dark blue trousers with a matching jacket, a lighter blue vest and an almost white shirt, open at the collar. His feet bore brown boots, an odd combination she noted. Smart suit but scruffy shoes... He had unkempt, blond curly hair and bright blue eyes and his face looked worn with something other than age that Teresa couldn't help but feel curious about. The thought that it was odd clothing to wear to a music store struck again but then again, hadn't he said he was going to an interview? But then if you were going to an interview you'd want to be there early, not hanging around in a music shop. And that smile. It seemed to her like a card that was often dealt but not by a wholly honest player. She didn't think he was deceiving her, oh no she believed him with an unnatural certainty, but she did believe that the smile wasn't accurately representing the man's feelings. She had been a detective for how long? She really should be better at reading people by now. Alas her thoughts were interrupted.

"I really do have to go now, I have an interview."

"Oh. Bye," came the awkward reply but he had already left the shop.

So Teresa bought the CD, shoved it on the back seat of her car and returned in a mad dash to the CBI building to assist in conducting these pointless interviews. She sympathised with the applicants that had to deal with her without sufficient caffeine in her system but not enough to actually buy a coffee. There was no time for that. She was not in Minelli's good books after screwing up on the team's last case, not that she understood how she could possibly have caught the guy any quicker. Technically wasn't it better if he was dead when they found him because then they wouldn't need a confession? But, when it came to Minelli it was best to just nod and agree and then work your ass off to keep him happy. And on that thought she half ran into the CBI building hoping she wasn't actually as late as she knew she was.

Waiting in the overly-organised office wasn't at all nerve wracking for Patrick Jane even though he knew it should be. More than his future was pinned on the outcome of this interview. A job as a consultant for the leading crime fighting agency in the state was as good as it was going to get. Sure he might have to actually solve some murders, but it brought him closer to his vengeance. This was the job that could end his overbearing guilt. This job was a means to an end.

In an overly relaxed manner he examined the office from his seat in front of the desk and deduced his interviewer was a white male in his late fifties, a smoker and married more than once with the possibility of children. Child's play he thought. Patrick allowed himself a little smile as his deductions where confirmed and a white male in his late fifties strode into the office and introduced himself as Virgil Minelli. If he could read this man so easily at a mere glance at his office, getting into his employment should be no problem. All he had to do was say the right things, laugh at the right jokes and agree with everything he said. Who cares whether he actually meant it?

The interview started inevitably with the part Patrick wanted to leave well alone. Red John. Was he too close to the case? Did he have a vested interest? Was he likely to be a liability when Red John is caught? It was a breeze. What could you bring to the job Mr Jane? Is there anything you want to gain from getting this position? How long have you wanted to work with the police? It was just too easy. Half an hour later and the interview was almost over and looking very promising. It was at this point that a familiar face burst into the office. It was the Coldplay woman from the music store. He smiled another charming smile in her direction to which the reply was, "You!"

"Is everything alright Lisbon?" was the concerned response from Minelli.

"Umm, yes sir. I uh, met him earlier at a music store down the street."

Teresa was irritatingly conscious of how often she stammered in the presence of the strange suited man. "Fascinating story Lisbon. I'd like to introduce me to the new addition to your team. Mr Patrick Jane, he is to be your consultant. I might add you would have had a little more choice in the matter if you had actually been present during the interview. Mr Jane this is Special Agent Teresa Lisbon. She's your boss. When are you able to start?"

"When would you like me to start?"

"Well ideally this afternoon but I understand that..."

"Then this afternoon I'll start. Miss Lisbon will show me around I presume?"

At this Minelli's face was briefly blank with wonderment but soon composed himself. "Agent Lisbon will show you what's what and will introduce you to the team you'll be working alongside. I'll have my assistant come by later with the official paperwork. Welcome to the CBI, Mr Jane."

"Thank you."

And with that a slightly shell shocked Lisbon walked out the office followed closely by her new consultant. "So our unit's the Serious Crimes Unit, we're on the 4th floor. We deal predominantly with..."

"I signed up for the job I think I knew what I was getting into, you can spare the details," Patrick laughed. "Do you have any tea?"

"Oh, yeah sure. The kitchen is just outside the bullpen. This way."

Lisbon was quite taken aback by his openness and quietly pleased that she didn't have to go through and explain the boring details of her work. She directed him towards the kitchen and started to get the mugs out of a cupboard until a hand reached out and stopped her. "Don't worry I've got this."

Lisbon watched in amazement as Patrick made his way around the kitchen as if he'd known it his whole life and she was equally impressed when he presented her with her own cup of coffee despite the fact he'd made himself tea. "Now, don't you have to introduce me to the team?"

Together they entered the bullpen and they were greeted with the sight of a tall, well built man commentating on his shot of a paper ball into a bin across the room. A considerably smaller Asian man was watching with some amusement at his colleague's failed attempt and embarrassment. The first man jumped in surprise at the entrance of his boss and a stranger and a look of guilt spread across his face. "Cho, Rigsby this is Mr Patrick Jane. He will be joining our team as a consultant. Mr Jane, this is Agent Kimball Cho," she said gesturing to the small Asian man, "and this is Agent Rigsby," she said with a gesture to the guilty looking man.

Lisbon left and the next couple of minutes were spent exchanging greetings and pleasantries. A length of time Patrick thought wasted but he figured it was too early to start bending the rules as would inevitably happen. He looked around in search of a place to sit to be instructed by Rigsby that his desk was the one near the entrance to the bullpen. His first thought on the matter was some distaste at the hard looking chair, but his hopes were raised when he saw the enticing brown leather couch just to the side. But, better not to be seen 'relaxing' first day on the job. So Patrick sat himself down on the uncomfortable wooden chair and took in the new surroundings, mentally sizing up his new colleagues.

First was Wayne Rigsby. Tall, physically strong and a little bit attracted to his boss. Nothing would ever happen though. Definitely not, he was way too afraid of her for that. And she, she was... different. Not like anyone Patrick had ever met before. And he'd met a lot of people. She liked rules and regulations, anyone could see that. Not very open either, she didn't express anything that wasn't necessary to get the job done and Patrick could relate to that. And then there was Cho. He'd been there longer than Rigsby. It was evident though that they were good friends. Patrick could see it now, Rigsby would do something stupid and Cho would laugh and mock him for it. Cho was very much like Lisbon. He didn't reveal anything he didn't want you to know. Not in words anyway, Patrick could read him like a book. In fact he could look at all three of them and see exactly what they didn't want. The irony of law enforcement officers not being able conceal their thoughts at will was highly amusing to him and he let out a little chuckle only to be cut short by the angry entrance of Lisbon. "Why did I just get a call from the SAC PD telling us they've brought in the witness? I thought I told you guys to bring her in this morning?"

"We uh called at her home but there was no answer so we figured we'd come back later," replied Rigsby quietly.

Patrick laughed quietly at the scene before his eyes. The massive man was practically quaking in his boots in fear of a woman nearly half his height. Lisbon swung round with a furious glare that bore into his face but to her surprise it didn't perturb the consultant. "What?" she snapped.

"Ah nothing. Can I see the case file?" Patrick replied coolly.

"The case file? Why would you...?"

"I am your consultant now am I not? And to consult I would need a vague idea of the case."

"Of course Mr Jane, the suspect list in on Cho's desk over there, the rest in my office. I'll grab it for you now."

"Thanks and it's Patrick or Jane. No Mr," he responded with another of those charming smiles.

Lisbon hurried out and Jane sauntered over to Cho's desk. "This it?" he said, referring to the sheets of paper he now held in his hand.

Cho nodded. "Huh. There's rather a lot of names here."

"Well we question all the people that are close to the victim or have a motive and then we can get alibis from them and cut it down."

"Well I figured you weren't going to make it any longer... That would just be plain stupid. You got a pen?"

Cho looked at him blankly for a second and then handed him a biro. Jane turned on his heel and walked towards his desk mumbling to himself. "Not him, not him, or her. Definitely not that guy. Maybe him. Not her, or him or him. Could be that guy, but then... no not him. Aha. Cho! Got your guy. A Christopher Foreman. What you gonna do now, arrest him or something?"

"What? You can't seriously have got the killer in that time!"said a stunned Rigsby.

"Yeah, what evidence do you have?" added Cho.

"Yep. Definitely this guy. Has those eyes, they just scream murderer. And he has no alibi, probably lured the victim into an alleyway with promises of some lovely dope" said Jane, standing up and dropping the papers onto his desk.

"The guy wasn't even a druggy!" exclaimed Rigsby.

"Wanna bet? Seriously what do you want to put on it that uh Christopher Foreman here is a druggy?"

Jane was getting into his element now. Proving his skills to his sceptical team and maybe having a little fun. Still there was the ever constant guilt niggling away at the back of his mind, warning him against playing these tricks. "Alright. I got err, six bucks and thirty... four cents," said Rigsby, digging deep into his trouser pocket.

"What about you Cho? Are you in?"

Cho looked at Patrick, trying to figure him out. He hadn't been on the job more than half an hour and already he was making bets on suspects? Who the hell was this guy? "Yeah I'm in. Five bucks says you're wrong."

Patrick smiled. This was too easy. "Well don't you have to go catch the guy? I take it he's not coming to you."

They looked at him suspiciously then left to clear it with Lisbon. Now where was that couch that had been calling his name since he first set eyes on it. He headed over to it and sat carefully down. Within five minutes he was laying down on it with his hands behind his head staring up at the curiously shaped stains on the ceiling. With a sigh he closed his eyes and began to wander against his well into places that were best left alone, all the while absentmindedly twirling the wedding band encircling his finger. "So Foreman's the killer huh?"

Patrick was jerked back to reality. Lisbon had materialised and was standing over the couch. He sat up too quickly and his head spun making him sway. "Err yep..."

"I see you've made yourself at home."

"Yeah. Good couch. Comfy. Not too hard. The sign of a good couch."

"How did you know it was Foreman? Cho told me you barely took one look at the suspect list. What evidence do you have? And murderous eyes don't cut it. Yeah Cho told me that too. And betting that he was a druggy? A little unprofessional don't you think? How could you possibly have known? Oh wait, was it just a lucky guess?"

"Are you angry with me?" said Jane with a slightly amused look on his face.

"Ugh no. Hard day. Sorry. Next time give me solid evidence."

And with that Lisbon swept out of the office as abruptly as she had rest of the day was reasonably uneventful for Jane. Cho and Rigsby returned having made an arrest and the case was almost closed. After receiving a yawn-worthy lecture from Minelli about his disorderly conduct he left the building.

It was long drive home, made only slightly more bearable with the radio making noise in the background. He wasn't really listening, his brain was preoccupied with other things. He was on autopilot. It was a shock to him when he realised he'd reached his house. He hadn't really being watching the road. It was a miracle he hadn't caused a accident. The darker recesses of Patrick's mind supposed a fatal collision wouldn't have been the worst thing.

He unlocked his front door and stepped over its threshold. In the corner of his eye he could see his daughter's little pink tricycle exactly where he pushed it out of the way years ago. A mountain of mail was accumulating behind the door but he didn't bother to move it. Probably wasn't anything important anyway. After shutting the door he moved towards the stairs and climbed upwards. Lining the walls were family pictures coated thickly with dust but Patrick didn't notice. His eyes were firmly on the door. He reached the top of the stairs and walked onwards through the door into the bedroom. It was completely empty except for a thin mattress in the far right corner. He didn't really understand why he'd put it there; he never did any sleeping when he came here. Of course there was one other feature to the room. Above the mattress there was the signature mark of the man that had brought Patrick's world crashing down upon him. A haunting smiling face drawn in the blood of his family. There was no evidence to suggest he'd ever tried to remove it. It was still as vivid as ever, no fading had befallen it. And that's the way Patrick knew it would stay until he'd completed his task. Only when he'd cut open Red John and watch him bleed slowly to death, suffering every second, only then would Patrick consider removing the scarlet face from his Patrick lay down on the scrappy little mattress his brain was working frantically, considering and creating multiple schemes to ensnare Red John. He'd already 'borrowed' and read the Red John case file from Lisbon's office. He planned to read it again later and then read it again until he'd memorised every word in its pages. There was no way Red John would slip through his fingers. Now he had this job his revenge would be inevitable. Because he had found a means to an end. And with that thought he smiled.


End file.
